Never Laugh as a Hearse Goes By: A Penny Brannigan Mystery (10 page)

“Indeed, I do know what she’s like,” smiled Davies. “But don’t give her another thought. Bronwyn and Penny have agreed to keep her entertained and out of trouble, so you’re all right.”

He checked his watch. “I’ve asked for…” He was interrupted by the sound of knocking on the door. Davies opened it, reached out to take something, and then returned to Florence at the table.

Setting down a nicely laid out tea tray, he gave her a reassuring smile.

“I’ll check back in an hour or so to see how you’re getting on, but if you need anything in the meantime, just ask at reception and they’ll find me. But if you do leave the room, make sure you take everything with you. Don’t leave even a scrap of paper behind.” He nudged the tray across the table a little closer to her. “Do you need anything else or shall I leave you to get on with it?”

“I think I’ve got everything I need, thanks.”

“Right, then.” Davies closed the door quietly behind him.

Florence admired the attractive tea tray that had been set before her; she couldn’t remember the last time someone had brought her a tea tray, but over the years she’d delivered plenty of them to other people. It was nice to be waited on, for a change. She picked up the teapot, poured a cup, added a spoonful of sugar, and gave it a slow stir. The shortbread biscuits looked homemade and her first nibble confirmed they were. She took a sip of tea, wiped her hands on the snowy white napkin, and reveled in an unfamiliar sense of luxurious well-being. What it must be like to live like this, she thought. To be able to read and work in calm, comfortable surroundings with nothing to worry about and your every need met.

After taking one last appreciative look around the room, she opened Minty Russell’s steno pad and set to work.

Seventeen

Two hours later Florence put down her pen, took off her glasses, rubbed her eyes, and glanced at the window. Dusk was closing in. So far, she’d seen nothing out of the ordinary in Minty’s notebook. There were straightforward minutes from various meetings and notes for one or two letters that the bishop had asked her to draft. But all that was more or less what she’d expected to find. She stood up and strolled over to the fireplace, then walked to a large bookcase filled with contemporary novels. She scanned the titles on the spines, ran her fingers over one or two, and pulled one off the shelf. After reading the jacket notes and discovering the story took place in North Wales, she carried it with her back to the table and checked her watch. The inspector had said he’d be back in an hour, and now almost two hours had gone by so he should be along soon. A few minutes later the door opened and there he was. He joined her at the table.

“Now, then, Florence, how’d you get on?”

“All right, I think. There are minutes from meetings and notes for correspondence, all rather routine and ordinary. It’s all in here.” She pushed the notebook toward him. “All recent. There wasn’t that much. The steno book was quite new. I found the notes from your presentation on church thefts very interesting.”

The corners of his mouth drooped slightly. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“Don’t be disappointed, Inspector. What’s in here is exactly what you’d expect to find. I could tell from the quality of her work that she had been well trained. She was very professional.”

“You could tell all that, could you, just from her notebook?”

“Oh, yes, Inspector.” Florence gestured at the notebook. “You see, we were taught that these notebooks belong to our employer and that they are the next best thing to a legal document. There should not be anything untoward or personal in this book.” She patted the neatly written transcribed pages she had just completed. “You’ll want to go over everything, I’m sure, in case there’s something there that means something to you, but I saw nothing unusual in the minutes of the meetings or drafts of letters. All very routine, in my opinion.”

Davies nodded.

“But there is something.”

Davies eyes widened slightly and his gaze became more intense. Florence opened the stenographer’s notebook. It was spiral bound along the top and when opened fully, lay flat on the table. “As I said, her steno book contained only work-related notes, but it may be that she did use the notebook to record personal information.” Florence pointed to a small shred of paper caught in the coiled binding. “You can see here where a page has been ripped out of the notebook, leaving this little bit of paper behind. The page that’s been torn out could very well have been personal. As a properly trained stenographer, she would not have left personal notes in her official notebook.” Florence shook her head slightly. “Now, I am not saying the page contained anything important.” She gave a slight shrug and raised her hands in a small gesture. “I don’t know what it contained. It could be no more than a shopping list or a list of things she needed to do that she wrote in the middle of a boring meeting. I used to do that sort of thing myself. Or, it could be something important.” She flipped several pages. “And see, another page has been torn out here. In fact, this was the second last entry in the book, just before the notes she took of your talk on the church thefts, so it’s very recent. It might be of some significance. I don’t know.” Florence gave Davies an encouraging look. “So if I were you, Inspector, I’d look a little harder and see if these missing pages turn up. And if you find them, they might also be in shorthand and if they are, I’d be happy to translate them for you.”

“Thank you, Florence. I appreciate your work today.” Davies placed the steno notebook in an evidence bag and gathered up the rest of the materials. “I’m going to ask you to stand by. Her office is being searched now and if anything turns up, I’ll let you know.” They stood up. “Now, I’m sure you’re ready for another cup of tea.”

“Something a little stronger, I think, Inspector, if you wouldn’t mind,” replied Florence, tipping her head in the direction of the honesty bar which resembled a tempting, well-stocked drinks table in the drawing room of a country house. Miniatures of liquor were set out, along with small cans of mixers, a variety of glasses, bottles of wine and sherry, a filled ice bucket, and a small plate of sliced lemon, covered in cling film.

“Good idea,” said Davies, “I wish I could join you but I’ve still got a lot of work to do today. What can I get you? Sherry, is it?”

“Do you know, Inspector, I’d like something a little different. Let’s push the boat out. Mine’s a gin and tonic with ice, please.”

“Mrs. Lloyd has been asking when you’re likely to be finished. Shall I send her in or would you like to enjoy your drink on your own?” Davis asked as he snapped open a can of tonic water.

“Has Penny been looking after her?”

“She has.”

“Poor Penny. Better send Evelyn in, then.”

Davies laughed as he added a slice of lemon to her drink.

“That’s very understanding of you, Florence. Would Mrs. Lloyd like a drink, too, do you think?”

“Yes, Inspector, I’m sure she would. Would you mind making it two?”

“Not at all. Does she take ice with hers, too?” Davies signed for both drinks and then reached for the tongs.

Eighteen

Davies found Penny and Mrs. Lloyd seated in the dining room, looking out over the back garden. A moment after hearing that Florence had a drink waiting for her in the Gladstone Room, Mrs. Lloyd scuttled away, leaving Penny and Davies with the room to themselves. The metal shutter of the servery window was closed as the kitchen staff finished preparations for the evening meal. The dining room was empty and silent, except for the occasional sound of Alan, the chef, calling out an order to the kitchen staff over the rattle of large pots and pans.

“Any new developments?” Penny asked. “Was Florence able to help at all?”

“Possibly. She didn’t see anything of interest in the steno book, but she did make an interesting observation. It’s not what’s there that could be important, but what isn’t there.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that at least two pages that could contain personal information seem to be missing. I’ve asked for Minty’s office to be searched. If the pages turn up, in her desk, say, they may be important or, as Florence said, they may contain nothing more than a shopping list. Anyway, if and when we find them, Florence will translate for us if need be.”

“What do you make of all this?” Penny asked. “This whole business with Minty.”

“It seems likely that someone deliberately put shellfish on her plate, knowing that she had a severe allergy to it. Whether that person wanted to frighten her or kill her, I don’t know. But the PM is scheduled for first thing in the morning so hopefully we’ll get some useful information from that, although the toxicology results will take longer.”

Penny nodded. “It would be helpful to know who was within earshot at the reception when she mentioned her allergy. Bronwyn said she was speaking in a normal voice so anyone nearby could have heard her.”

“But we don’t know enough about her yet to know why someone would want to hurt her,” said Davies.

The two lapsed into a silence that, as the seconds turned into a minute, hung heavy and awkward. Where once there had been companionable silence, now there was awkwardness with a hint of underlying tension.

“This isn’t turning out the way I’d hoped it would,” Davies said finally.

“No,” Penny replied. “It’s too bad about Minty.”

“I think you know I didn’t mean that, Penny, although that situation is certainly not helping. I meant between you and me. I’d hoped that this time away together would have been enjoyable for you. Spending time together. Just the two of us. I’d hoped that we…”

He looked at her, beseechingly, but she did not meet his eyes. “What is it, Penny? What’s the matter?” When she did not reply, he continued, softly. “Look, I’m not stupid. I read people’s body language for a living. I know there’s something wrong and I’m hoping we can talk about it. That you feel comfortable enough to tell me what it is. Or what you’re feeling. You can be honest with me, you know.”

Finally, she raised her troubled eyes to meet his anxious ones, then looked away.

“I don’t know,” she said, softly. “But I do know it isn’t you or anything you’ve done.” She covered her eyes with her fingers and shook her head lightly. “Oh, this is going to sound stupid, I know. It’s just that this has got too intense and it scares me a bit.” She peered at him and smiled. “And at the same time I value our friendship so highly and I’m afraid of losing that.” She shrugged and locking her fingers together, placed her hands on the table, and looked at them. “I don’t want things to change. I liked how comfortable we were before things got complicated.”

“But did things get complicated?” he asked gently. “Or are we just moving on to the logical place where good relationships go?” He covered her hand with his and was relieved when she did not pull hers away. “Penny, tell me. What are you afraid of? What’s this really about?”

But before she could answer, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and then, with an apologetic grimace, answered it, listened for a few minutes, and then rang off.

“That was the pathologist’s office. The PM’s been moved up—it’s going to take place this evening, so I have to go. Sorry, love. We’ll continue this conversation, but all I want is for you to be happy, and I’m fine with whatever you want. We’ll take things as they come and as slowly as you like. No pressure.” He leaned over, put his hand on her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “Really. No pressure.” As he got to his feet she looked up at him and smiled and a moment later he was gone. She remained where she was, enjoying the feelings of relief washing over her that the conversation they needed to have had been started. Then, she too left the room.

As she reached the top of the stairs and turned down the hall toward the bedrooms, she heard low, urgent voices coming from the Robinson Room. She walked just past the open door and flattened herself against the wall.

“I told you, darling, we’d have to be careful,” a male voice said. Penny gave a tiny gasp at hearing almost the very same words that had been left on her voice mail and covered her mouth with her hand. After a moment, a female voice responded, “Well, we certainly weren’t expecting anything like this. I think we’d better finish, don’t you? It’s all just become too risky and if I’m honest, just a little bit boring. Anyway, it’s been fun, but we’ve gone as far as we can, wouldn’t you agree? There doesn’t seem much point anymore.”

When there was no reply, the female voice went on, “You didn’t have anything to do with it, did you? With what happened to the precious Miss Russell?” The male voice gave a little noise of what sounded like disgust and as the door started to open Penny took five fast steps down the hall and turned around so she appeared to be coming toward the Robinson Room. A moment later, Hywel Stephens emerged, followed by Pamela Blaine.

Penny gave them a weak smile and said hello, but they ignored her. Head down, Mrs. Blaine brushed past her, and the accountant headed in the opposite direction, through the door that led to the landing at the top of the stairs. A few moments later his feet made soft thudding sounds on the carpeted stairs.

Nineteen

Elwy Nash paused to collect his thoughts on the doorstep of the small bungalow just outside Hawarden where he lived with his wife, Constance. He had terrible news for her, and needed to take a moment to find the right words.

He put the key in the lock and let himself in. He hung his jacket on a hook in the hall and pushed open the door to the sitting room. His wife, her head covered in a scarf patterned with yellow roses, dozed in a heavy brown recliner, her feet elevated on the raised footrest. Her head lolled against the back of the chair, her mouth slightly open. The soft hiss of a gas fire and a ticking clock on the mantelpiece broke the silence in the stifling, overheated room.

He sat down on the sofa and gazed at her until she stirred and turned her head toward him.

“So. You’re home, then,” she said.

“Yes, Constance, I’m home and I’ve got some very bad news. It’s about Minty, I’m afraid. The police came to see me in the pub this afternoon.”